


His Master's Voice

by Decepticonsensual



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/pseuds/Decepticonsensual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP.  Megatron decides to give his second-in-command a special reward... but first, Starscream's going to have to learn to beg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Master's Voice

What people don’t always realise is that Starscream, for all his treachery, is very, very good at what he does.

He needs to be, of course.  To be second-in-command of the Decepticon forces already requires uncommon ability.  A second-in-command who has stabbed his leader in the back dozens of times, and yet remains alive?  That takes one _remarkable_ mech.  Yes, Starscream is a dangerous ally, but when he turns all that cunning and that gleeful, inventive taste for violence on the Autobots, he can be glorious.

And sometimes, he’s so good that he deserves a reward.

Well, Megatron calls it a reward.  If he’s honest, though, he loves it as much as Starscream does.  There is nothing in the world like making his pretty, insolent second beg for him.

Starscream’s vents are ragged, and he’s biting his lower lip, determined not to moan as Megatron’s hot breath moves up his inner thigh.  His leader’s fingers skate over his scorching panel, the touch far too light to do anything but taunt him.  With a frustrated growl, Starscream tries to thrust up in to Megatron’s hand… only to have it taken away.  Red optics smirk down at him, and Starscream glares back.

“Get _on_ with it!”

“So eager, Starscream…”  Megatron chuckles.  “And so _tempting_.  Very well.”  He abruptly reaches one hand up to pin Starscream’s wing to the berth, his fingers clenching so hard they scrape paint.  With the other fist, he raps sharply on his subordinate’s panel.  “Open.”

Starscream’s sensors are already cranked up to their most sensitive from being teased, so the sudden, rough touch is overwhelming.  He hisses and arches, his panel snapping back automatically.  His spike is fully pressurised, and Megatron gives it an experimental stroke or two, causing Starscream’s engines to rev, before turning his attention to the dripping valve below it.

Oh, _this_ is what Megatron has been looking forward to.  “Already so wet for me,” he purrs.  “Tell me, Starscream, have you been thinking of this since the battle?  Did you hope you’d done well enough to deserve this?”  One finger circles the slick, pliant metal at the edge of Starscream’s valve.  “Tell me how much you’ve wanted me to hold you down and frag you with my mouth.”

Starscream cries out at the touch, bucking against Megatron’s hand, but his optics are wicked.  “Not as much as you’ve obviously wanted to do it, mighty Megatron,” he pants, looping one leg around to hook it over his leader’s.

Megatron snarls.  Starscream laughs.

And then Megatron sits back, his expression all sweetness and light.  “Oh, so you don’t want it after all?  Well, in that case, I’ll let you be –”

 _“No!”_ It slips out before Starscream can stifle it.  He makes a face at having exposed himself, then goes on, “That is… if my master feels he really _must_ honour my achievements –”

“I _must_ do nothing, Starscream.”  Megatron’s voice is silken and dangerous.  “Do not forget who I am.  Now, are you going to admit what you want, or shall I leave you –” he runs a finger through the trickle of lubricant streaking Starscream’s thigh – “like this?”

Starscream throws his head back, defeated.  “Please,” he begs, “please, master, I need it.  I need your mouth, I need… _ngggh,_ do whatever you want to me, only _let me overload_!”

Grinning like a shark, Megatron takes his lubricant-slick fingers and rakes them over Starscream’s lower lip, his engines purring as Starscream licks at them eagerly.  Then he pushes his second’s thighs apart and lowers his head to Starscream’s valve.

The first swipe of his glossa is so long delayed that and so damned _good_ that Starscream keens, tossing his head on the berth.  Megatron smiles, unseen.  He sucks on the edges of Starscream’s valve gently.  The familiar taste is intoxicating, but not as exciting as Starscream’s moans and the broken hiccup of his vents, the way he whispers Megatron’s name.  His hips thrust helplessly until Megatron grabs them and slams them down, holding Starscream in place so that he can lavish attention on that enticing valve, alternating long licks with working his glossa inside the clenching heat.

Starscream is shaking.  He won’t last long; Megatron obligingly digs his fingers into the wiring at the tops of Starscream’s thighs, and the warm sting pushes him over the edge with a shriek.  _“Master!”_

Megatron raises his head, radiating smugness, and Starscream shifts to languidly curl around him, kissing him almost reverently.

 _“Mine,”_ Megatron whispers.


End file.
